Just Another Rainy Night
by Joz yyh
Summary: Rorschach x female OC. ONE-SHOT. SPOILERS! Takes place around the time Captain Metropolis calls the first crime busters meeting. Rorschach's childhood friend crashes at his apartment and decides living togehter is a perfect chance for them to get closer.


**A/N: Usually I ship yaoi, but I just couldn't pair Rorschach with any of the other Watchmen. I can see him with Night Owl, I even read fics about the pairing, but I don't feel their relationship enough to write about it. Such is why I made my OC Kate. Also know that I meant for this fic to tie into the comic.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Watchmen. The OC Kate however, is mine.**

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It was still raining bricks when Rorschach got back, retracing the same street he left 6 hours ago. It had been a slow night, a rare one that he simply watched and thought. Rorschach did save a woman from being mugged. The miss's had black rust down her face, had caught her husband having an affair and thought running away in a trench coat and hat would hide her blonde beauty and diamond earrings from the filth polluting the menacing alleyways until her husband drove up in a limo offering more materialism by throwing pricy gifts out the window crying how sorry he was. What the woman wishes for won't come true. The crook stumbles away with a shattered wrist and a few loose teeth as a warning. She screams, hell-bent on escaping the bigger fish that has come to eat her, and clops off in her heels. She's not thinking clearly and Rorschach trails her, appears when she goes the wrong way, guides her with her fear and she thinks it's God's grace that gets her to a hotel unharmed. It bothers him more when the city's sinning less than usual. It means that somewhere there's a crime far beyond the punishment of death being employed. That's why he's Rorschach's here now. Walking by a familiar place, a refuge besides his mask, will make him see straight again so he can put a stop to it.

Something felt off. Rorschach knew it before he climbed the cement stairs, before he noticed the lock to his scuffed apartment door was picked.

_-Here. Someone. Why?- _

It would have been an untraceable subtlety, a hit-and-miss, had it been seen from any other eyes aside from his own. Maybe Rorschach was a little too paranoid about being found out, about someone unlocking his identity that made him believe he was being intruded before he saw the proof. The only way to keep yourself a secret was to seal it in velvet ring box, wrap it in 2 rolls duck tape and barbed wire with a ticking time bomb, and burry it under the nearest power plant. Exposition was a fear shared by all the masks, but Rorschach wasn't like them. He doesn't have time for masquerade like the others, doesn't see justice as a romanticized play that you can just wake up the next morning and read your review in the paper. Too many of them don't understand, too naïve and optimistic, only a comedian is broken in. When it comes to sensing a scum's tricks their eyes are blind by their star-studded outfits. Rorschach's ace is resourcefulness, knowing what to break and which chemicals will burn. It isn't just a skill; it produced information, put food in his stomach and money in his pepper-stained pockets.

As he mounted the steps, the wind ran it's cold breath over the city. Rorschach grunted as poster caught on his shoe. He looked down, greeted again by the garbage gorged around his stoop. One day he'd catch somebody adding to the pile and force their conglomerate fast-food cup back down their throat to choke the saccharine taste on their tongue, stuff the body full of litter and leave it outside as a scarecrow to keep the human trash away. But that wasn't important now. He could save that idea for the next lonely watch.

Rorschach reached inside his coat and uncoiled the instrument that would make any guest very talkative. He felt the wire cut into his leather gloves, waiting for that cinch that meant it was almost tight enough. He organized what he would do if they struggled, what questions he would ask. Pointless to prepare; it all came with instinct. It made him feel better though, always good to have a plan.

The door hardly made a sound as Rorschach eased it open just enough for himself to fit through. He closed it behind him just as soundlessly. He couldn't have one of the many sirens in N.Y. give one up to the killer that master came home.

It was dark along the shoddy hallway. Old remnants of past tenants: a slanted photograph of red maple trees, a lanky Persian carpet soiled and dusty, and a neglected teddy bear is hidden behind casts of spider webs in the dead-end ahead of him. He's not trying to make this place a home, doesn't want to leave anything behind so there's no sense in cleaning up.

The killer was to the right, in the kitchen, near the strong ashen light. Human-esque shadows skip across the peeling green leaves of the damask wallpaper. He hears rattling noises, glass clanking against metal racks as he sidles up close to the connecting wall.

He's not sure why he hesitates. He's done this for so long, so often. Maybe it's the fact that there _is_ someone here who knows more than they should and he's not imagining it like the lunatic everyone says he is and that leaves him the slightest bit unsteady.

Rorschach finally gets himself to move, hugging the corner as his feet slide onto molded grout tiles. The naked bulb inside the fridge nearly blinds him after hours of slinking through the city's corruption, but he makes out a torn silhouette. The thief's bent over, neck obscured, but Rorschach's hands know just where to lasso.

There's a flash and Rorschach's slamming into the belly of the fridge, head caught in the empty ice-caked freezer. The freezer door collides with the back of Rorschach's head and then he's clapped again by a wrench. His brain tolls against the inside of his skull and he slumps onto the cold floor.

"Dammit Wal—"

The thief that isn't really a thief catches the taboo name before it entirely peels out of her throat. _Rorschach_ doesn't like to be called that any more and she doesn't need anymore scars to remind her of that.

"Rorschach … sorry, thought you were a burglar. I was hoping that one of those lowlife's would wander in if I opened the door for them."

It doesn't sound like an apology and wasn't that she was looking for a fight or that she wanted to join the masked crime fighting crusade. She just really needed the money and any guy stupid enough to accept a trap invitation was stupid enough to carry a wallet on them. Might even get a reward too if she turned the guy in because there's always someone looking for someone else. Maybe the police should be looking for her she's the one who really must be loosing it to think of something so ludicrous.

Rorschach is still feeling disoriented; his head lolling about as he tires to make sense of the swirl of blacks and whites on colors, but he's coming around.

"I've been wondering when you would get back. God, what do you do out there that makes you want to go back out every night?"

Her voice is rough and frustrated. Her shoulders are tense and her head is down as she bears all of her weight on her hands that grip the lip of the counter. She shakes her head of dark curls. She will never understand how Walter can live like this, without a microwave, without a TV. She can't understand because she doesn't feel his pain. She knows that even as she stares at the speckled, termite-gnawed countertop wishing it would tell her.

Neither of them says anything.

"You really didn't realize it was me here, did you?" She asks sadly as her hazel eyes turn to him.

Rorschach doesn't answer and she knew he wouldn't, but she smirks to in self-pity and laughs to cover up the tears.

"Sorry again about busting in here. I know you're not used to …" She wants to say 'your bad habits', but she looks for more peaceful words. "I mean, it's not like you would ever invite people over. Hey, uh … you want a sandwich?"

She hates herself for asking with such pathetic question, but it's all she's got and she can't take the silence right now.

She holds out a cold turkey on white. She takes a bite when she realizes it's rejected. She flops the sandwich next to the mayonnaise jar.

"I don't think I am that hungry anymore."

"Kate? Why here?" Rorschach snarls.

She's happy he remembers she has a name, but it's annoying that he forgets what brought her here.

"I told you I was evicted. You know my job's shit and the boss keeps docking my pay because all our clients suspect me. Not that I lost much of anything. Only reason I stayed for as long as I did was to leak you your information."

True, she was useful and helped him crack down on some big drug suppliers. Everyone with a nice car knows a good mechanic that will take the money and keep his mouth shut.

"Can't break in whenever you like."

Rorschach stands, flattening the fedora onto his head and straightening the lapel of his trench coat.

"Why? You do it all the time," the mechanic spits back.

Rorschach grunts his displeasure.

"Are you really going to kick me out onto the streets? Fuck you. You're hardly here anyway. Don't you think that's more suspicious to people, never being home even at 3 in the morning? Having me around would settle things down."

"Won't work."

"Why not? I'll fight you for my stay tonight if that's what you want." Kate reaches for the wrench near the sink she used earlier and clenches it in her left hand.

"Don't get it. Anybody come in here, kill you thinking .... and ..." He scratches his hat, as he searches for another excuse, "… nowhere for you to sleep."

It's the first time Rorschach talks to her like the friends she wants them to be and her lips curve into a smile. She leaves the wrench on the counter and walks towards him, closing the fridge to snuff out the bright light.

"I swear I won't cause you any trouble. It's only until I find another job and I don't have enough to my name right now to find a new place."

Kate chases the inkblots on his mask with her eyes, mesmerized with trying to solve the motivation behind their patterns that she forgets the dispute between them hasn't been decided.

The tube light above the sink casts a dull green light over the kitchen. The towers of dirty dishes are sparkling and neatly stacked inside the cupboards, some still lay out on the counter as they dry on a dish towel. She's wearing his clothes, blue plaid boxers and a wife beater. He can smell the soap on her that she used to do laundry that tells of a fantasy land of jade meadows and baskets of flowers that everybody wants to retreat to, but will only see in death.

He isn't sure if he likes the change.

Kate can't remember the last time they stayed in each other's company for more than 5 minutes without Rorschach taking off through a window. She had to beat him over the head to do it, but she was grateful that they had at least some sort of a conversation together.

Kate then becomes curious, wonders if the inkblots cover more than just his face and her hands stretch to shed the hat without thinking of Rorschach's distaste for it.

Her arms are grabbed in a painful grip and she shocked out of her trance. Kate looks at him worriedly and doesn't resist.

"What's wrong? Were you planning on going back out tonight?"

Her eyes go wide when she realizes that one of the black spots on his face hasn't moved; that it's dried blood.

"Did something happen?" The mechanic asks gently. He still has claim over Kate wrists, but it's a loosened dominance and her fingers nearly touch the canvas of the mask before Rorschach throws her hands away and walks past her into the living room window out looking the iron stairwell.

"Stay." Rorschach's groans and jumps out.

"No wait! I!" It's too late; there's nothing she can say to stop him because he won't listen when she's grown too comfortable with getting close to him.

"Did I … did I push you too much?"

The room doesn't answer her. Kate stands idle on the tile; her feet taking to the cold because Rorschach doesn't think it's necessary to pay for heat he doesn't need, and watches the rain beat outside of the window. The wood is slightly warmer on her heels, enough for her to notice, as she walks around the reclining chair in the living room. It's old torn leather with white tuffs strung out of it. Past that, she sits her knees on the cushions of the bruised couch in front of the window that makes up the rest of the living room. Her hand can't seem to shut the window so she crosses her arms and rests them on the crown of the couch, watching the figures in the apartment windows across the street. A couple is swearing at each other, the woman's silhouette is in a night gown and curler cap wagging her finger and shouting. To the right there are two people having sex. Below that is a little girl looking down at the street in a mix of intimidation and awe. Kate hears a man shouting in the street, it draws her attention, people look so small from up here, and he strides through the alley in his biker jacket and bandana to join his clone-like cronies on the other end. She likes listening to the sounds, it's almost like music, but she wonders if it's really so much brighter and greener being on the other side of the glass where Rorschach is.

Eventually she grows tired. She shuts the window and sets to lock the front door. She pulls on the knob to make sure she got it latched right and find's that Rorschach has already taken to it.

She unlocks the door and swings it open. She can feel sewer mist on her skin and the heavy night air that makes her feel like she needs another shower. She doesn't see what she's looking for.

She closes the door in disappointment and grabs the blanket off the couch. She lays out on the recliner, huddling under the fabric that could only enfold her if she were a child. Her duvet is by her suitcase stuffed in a garbage bag 2 steps away. It's white with pink roses; it's full of memories and comfort and the smell of the apartment she left behind, but she doesn't reach for it.

It is two hours later when Rorschach gets back. The couch catches the droplets that fling off his coat and the grime-filled footprints as he climbs in. The streets he patrolled were clean and whenever he tried to sit down and write his mind had inevitably circled back to _her_.

He stands over the mechanic now, the rain ticking against the floor. Rorschach wants to know what she did to him, wants her to _fix_ it.

Kate rustles under the blanket, wedging her nose, and smiles with eyes still shut, "Hey, get a shower already. I can smell you."

What was it with people and the way he _smelled_? He certainly didn't notice it.

Rorschach enters the kitchen and tosses his scarf, fedora, coat, at the sink to drain. He steps out of his shoes and enters the stream of hot water.

Kate can't sleep when she hears the shower switch on and the man who never takes off his mask for anyone is stripping himself bare.

She takes her time not to make any noise. A straight razor slices through the vinyl shower curtain and ends precisely at her throat. She pulls her neck back to keep the razor from doing any damage and freezes in place.

"Bed _NOW_," he grunts.

"It didn't work back then when you bit me, a knife won't work now."

He remembers that, knows the scar of teeth marks around her thumb and fore finger. It happened when they were young. After he attacked two older boys, Kate's father disapproved of them cavorting together and to avoid getting them both into trouble, Rorschach kept his distance. Kate never stopped trying to be his friend, even in the present, and attacking her seemed the only way to protect her.

"Still won't?" He challenges. His voice almost sounds smug and teasing.

When they met for the first time, Walter had been on an errand for his mother. He had seen Kate holding hands with her stout and fat father as a fellow business man talked with them in front of a shinny black car. By the look on her face she couldn't understand what they were saying and was bored standing there in the heat. It was the first time Walter had seen a girl who wore pink lacey dresses and tied ribbons in their hair and her eyes lit up when she noticed a boy around her age staring at her. She let go of her parent's hand to run up and introduce herself with a curtsey. She had explained that she just moved into a new house and that they should be friends. From then on she would always follow him around talk to him. Walter barely ever said much, but he enjoyed listening, up until the time he spoiled it.

"Yes, you won't. Because ..." she steps forward and the knife presses into her throat, "you're ..."

She starts to bleed and she can feel his arm shaking with indecisiveness when she moves again with a muffled a cry. "… letting me…" The knife retreats back into the tub.

Kate pulls back the curtain and climbs in.

"…do this."

Kate's movements are slow, Rorschach sees the crimson necklace he put on her. There isn't enough room for two people even if they're both standing. She nearly breaks out into a laugh. He's still in his suit and trousers, still wearing that mask and holey grey socks.

"Don't you ever get tired of playing dress up?" Kate asks.

The mechanic leans forward to help him undress properly.

Rorschach pulls the knife to her again.

"I won't touch your face. Trust me. And it's your fault I am out of a job."

Kate takes the razor from his hand after some persuasive tugging and sets it on the metal soap tray. His hand is still cupped and hers and she thinks that the gloves are a good place to start as any.

The mechanic sets the gloves over the razor to shut the blade out of both their minds, but she knows he can't forget. Years of being a vigilante give him a special place in his mind to engrain the location of a weapon.

Her fingers, her horrible, horrible fingers fumble with the buttons to his suit. She's nervous and she's scared. God, the only person who's seen her naked is her _mother_ and it's so hard to tell _which_ places are _alright_ for her to _touch_ because he's so damn _unreadable_.

Kate unties the last button and hesitates. She's stuck. Rorschach knew she would be from the very beginning and Kate realizes now that it's the only reason he let her get this far.

"Please?" The mechanic asks him desperately. She knows she promised him she won't look, it's forbidden for anyone to know, but she needs to see what happened to the quiet little boy from her childhood.

Rorschach's been watching her. He can see everything through his face, maybe more than he did without it. Her tight brown curls are soaked and straightened out. A white-green light glistens down the right side of Kate's cheek and nose, trails down to her shoulder and marks out her collar bone and below. He watches the undershirt cling tighter to her, plenty for him to see the almond skin of her breasts. Rorschach's mind wanders back vaguely to the lilac bra she left sticking out the arm of the chair.

She has his mask up to his lips and is feeling out the whiskers on his jaw before he understands what it is she's doing, and he pulls her body flush to his for a kiss. It's not a kiss really, how can it be if he doesn't know how to give one? Their mouths smash together; they both can feel their teeth behind the other's lips.

Kate deadpans then sags against him when she comes back to herself.

"Not so hard." She whispers, her voice cleaving through the rushing spray of water. She should of expected that Rorschach would be all violence and force, it's all he knows how to do, even with things like this, but that doesn't lessen her surprise. She will more than gladly show him how to be with a woman.

"Be gentle. Purse your lips."

Her palms cradle each side of his face, maneuvering him, and they try again. It's better the second time. Kate can feel the rinds of skin and cuts on his lips, and finds it odd that he tastes sweet.

Rorschach feels it too risky for them to undress in small slippery tub so he rips the wife beater into two. It's more tactical if they do it like this, she should understand. She doesn't. She nearly screams and turns her body away, her arms clutched around her breasts to hide herself from him.

"I let you see me if I see you." It's a childish bribe, but Kate doesn't know what else to do because there's nothing separating Rorschach from doing what he wants to her if he realizes that he isn't on the side that needs to compromise.

The mechanic's hazel eyes follow his hands, transfixed as they push more of the mask away. She can see the lines deepening his face from days without sleep, without eating, wearing more as his obsession for retribution multiplies. She doesn't have to touch to see the coarse texture that it has condemned his skin to. Rorschach pauses when his eyes remain. She makes herself believe that as far as he will go, even for her, maybe even for himself, but then the mask is off and hanging there with his razor and his gloves.

He looks older, different but she guesses that how she must look. He's grown handsome, she thinks. His face is teeming with freckles, there probably more since the last time she counted 20 years ago. His blue eyes have somehow preserved their clearness and she relaxes.

Kate flinches back when Rorschach's hand seeks for her.

"That's not all of it." She protests.

"Hrm."

This time Rorschach pulls her to him and their chests collide. She is still hidden from his sight. He takes her hand and there are so many calluses and sores she feels on his fingers that she wants to ask him about, but her hand is touching clasp of his trousers.

She can't take this. It's too much. She hides her red face against his chest, she's breathing harder, and she can smell the built up sweat on him. More than anything she doesn't want Rorschach to run away again. She slides his trousers down his hips and they pile around his feet.

Kate looks up at him and it's just as startling as the first time their eyes met. She not used to it yet,

He comes at her quickly, but recollects her earlier lesson and catches himself, waiting just beyond her lips for her consent and then kisses her.

"Use your tongue." She says.

He pulls back, his eyes lost and confused. Her eyes are heavy-lidded and she sighs the next part.

"Touch it with mine."

He tries it and it's more of a stagnant lick then anything.

"Longer. Should be like a dance."

The blank stare tells her he obviously doesn't know how to do that either.

"I'll show you. Don't pull away until I do."

She tips herself up, one arm wrapping around his neck that's been darkened with the mud rinsing out of his hair.

She can feel him pressing against her thigh and she's just as aroused. Kate hooks her fingers into the elastic of his boxers and yanks down. His length brushes her knuckles

He's so hot in her hand, hotter than the scolding water beating down on them and she questions if that's why he never feels cold.

He breaks away first.

"Kate." He almost moans.

She rewards him by stepping back and letting him see all of her. Her eyes are captivating in the dim light. He follows the path of her hair down to her perky chest that torments him with rosy nipples. Her waist is curvy and attractive, a stomach that returns the same favor she gives to the underside of car, and she's hairless to the bottom of her toes. He wants to hold her, grab her but he isn't exactly how to do it.

"Couch." Kate hears Rorschach rasp.

The shower head sputters as it dies and she's lifted up and being carried into the living room. Rorschach holds her in one hand as he haphazardly lays out a blanket from them to lie down.

"Rorschach, do you want to touch me?"

"Made that clear already. How?"

"I am a virgin. You know what that means right?"

"Errnk." Rorschach nods.

"That's good." She trades glances with the couch cushions and Rorschach's eyes, embarrassed for what she has to say next.

"Slide into me slowly."

Kate sits up to avoid lying still and pushes him into her pink sleekness. She doesn't have say anything for him to thrust fully inside of her heat. She braces herself with one arm on each side of the couch and he's dong fine with forming his own pace. Kate's breasts wriggle with each passing slap of their hips and Rorschach is prompted to do something about that.

"You .. you can touch them."

He does, rolls them in palm, feeling what smooth round flesh is. He pinches her nipple. Kate moans loudly and Rorschach covers her mouth.

"Keep voice down."

The walls are thin and someone is undoubtedly listening nearby.

"S…sorry." She pants and tosses her head to the side. Kate wonders if waiting this long has made it feel so good. She bites on her fingers to mute her burst of euphoria.

Rorschach leans forward, raises her hips and discovers farther inside of her. He screws his eyes shut and bites back his own cries. Rorschach spills between he soft walls and rests his dizzy head in the crook of her neck.

She doesn't ask him if he will stay with her the whole night, or if he'll be gone in the morning or if he'll stop by tomorrow afternoon even though she's clambering for reassurance. They lay there together, keeping each warm from the chilly apartment.

* * *

Kate wakes up early, she thinks so anyway. Rorschach keeps the only clock he owns on his wrist. She finds her rose-strewn blanket has been ripped out of its bag and draped over her during her sleep. It makes her smile. She pulls on shorts and a t-shirt from her suitcase and walks into the kitchen. There's a newspaper on the counter. Kate spends the day tracking down help wanted ads and one auto body shop gives her interview the moment she hands over her application.

They'll let her know, they'll call her in 2 weeks, that's what they always say. It's incredibly hard to get a job in the city. There are so many people to choose from with more experience.

A few weeks pass. Kate finds a work at a local restaurant. She grows even more used to Rorschach's erratic schedule. They have sex again. Rorschach's more eager and Kate teaches him to use a condom. One day Kate opens the door to the Landlady pounding on the other side. The red-headed woman's lines of complaints fall speechless. She apologizes for having disturbed her and walks away, surrounded by her children.

One late night Kate is washing dishes. She hears a window creak open and doesn't pay it any attention. She asks the shadow in the room how his night went when she stabbed at with a knife. She can't see who it is. Rorschach returns home later to find Kate propped up against the kitchen cupboards, blood streaming down her lips and 3 holes in her stomach. Kate tells Rorschach what the man's face looks like, that she's sorry, that she loves him, always loved Walter. Rorschach knows who the murderer is. It's a man he left free.

Rorschach breaks a man's arm at a bar to get an address. Turns out it's linked to a missing 6-year old girl case he's been dogging.

As he hacks away at the man who killed Kate, who butchered a little girl and fed her severed limbs to his 2 German shepherds, Walter Kovacs dies along with them. This revenge is for the three of them as he lights a match and watches the house burn.

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Thanks for Reading

Comment and Questions Welcome

Completed: Friday, March 20, 2009 4:20 am.


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